#crisp papyrus

[agere-infection-au]

Character reference sheets!

Part 2. 1 healthy, 1 missing

Crisp : Brother... I will find you.

Death : M... my powers? What about them?

Chain : Well, that's interesting one...

Stretch : Good thing anti-void is safe... at least for now.

Possessed : Sans... please, be safe... wherever you are...

Slim : *Growl* I shouldn't have left...

Button : *sniffle* Pappy... where are you..?

MadHat : Why long face, my friend? How about some warm tea instead?

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[crispbeigepages]

I was today years old when I realized that you can go into Papyrus's sink after the annoying dog leaves

[popatochisssp]

The Court AU has me DEAD!!! If you’d be willing, what sort of outfits would they wear? I’d love to draw them!

Anon, I had so many tabs open looking up medieval-type fashion and armor, we're talking like 30+, felt super awesome finishing this and closing them all 😌

Anyway--

Sans (Undertale): What’s black and blue and white all over? Why, him of course! His jester’s motley features a black-and-white diamond pattern, offset by bright, rich, royal blue—a mark of his service to the king. He doesn’t wear one of those silly hats, though…because he wears a silly hood instead! Less chance of falling off, you see. When not in costume he tends toward simple tunics, of decent material and often still in blue.

Papyrus (Undertale): Almost never out of full plate armor, even in downtime, he has to dress for the job he wants and that means being a shining metal bastion of knightly glory at all times! …Though he does often remove his helmet and hold it by his sword at his hip, or fasten it to his steed’s side. He’s a very handsome skeleton, it would be cruel to deny the people the chance to see their hero’s face!

Sky (Underswap Sans): Soft blues and yellows, as a squire only lightly armored—greaves and pauldrons, a mail shirt beneath his tunic if he’s expected to go into battle—but he considers even that much armoring to be overkill for what he’s doing. Still, his Captain insists, and it makes his brother feel better, so he takes care protecting himself. He has some nicer finery to wear about court, as a nobleman, but tends simpler for anything that might be dirtied or torn in training.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): Rich green and earthy browns, his clothing tends to be without ostentation—no embroidery, no gold buckles or buttons, or anything especially elaborate. He may be noble but he’s a scholar and a recluse and prefers not to stand out much. Still, the fabrics of which his clothing is made are always fine, as coarse or stiff materials quite put him off. Mostly cottes—long belted tunics—with the occasional robe over, if it's cold.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Blacks and browns, sturdy plain clothes which can stand up to considerable wear and tear. Often wears a short diamond-quilted gambeson and some leather armor (vambraces and greaves), but always has a sword belted to his hip and a cloak made of dire-wolf’s fur draped over his shoulders. If ever he should need to acknowledge his denounced family name, he does have some finer clothing stored away somewhere—in red—and a shiny gold signet ring with his family crest on it.

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Usually in half plate armor, dark metal heavily scratched and scorched, dents meticulously hammered back out. He also wears a tattered red cape about his shoulders that billows quite majestically behind him when he rides or runs into battle. He will occasionally dress down in laced tunics and breeches, still in red and black, fine but not too fine as to raise suspicion about his heritage. Should all that ever come out, he does have a suit of pristine night-black armor he’s been dying to inherit and a silken cape to pin about it with a golden clasp of the family’s crest.

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Mostly black but flaunts his privilege and royal ties with purple accents wherever possible. Brigandine armor with a fine gold-plated gorget and pauldrons and a few other ornamental trappings—he is the Empress’ personal guard and must in some capacity be as elegant. Very fine doublets and tunics for his (rare) downtime, often with gold threading, but not fond of most jewelries.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): Dark colors and crisp whites, noble yet eccentric, he has a lot of fine doublets and other such court-wear but tends not to actually…wear them. He can mostly be found in loose-fitting cottes, baggy sleeves often penned up by leather armlets to keep them out of his paints. He has a fur-hooded cloak for travel or cold weather, but he rarely leaves his rooms, much less the castle, so he doesn’t don it often.

Slate (Horrortale Sans): Dark browns and off-white cream, simple rough-hewn clothing showing signs of wear and occasionally odd stains. He works in the stables, with animals, and being around animals so much makes it difficult to keep clean. He has a somewhat decent dark blue cloak that he’ll wear into town for errands, or in polite company—it has a hood to conceal the great jagged hole in his head that tends to make the squeamish or timid flinch away from him.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): Still hasn’t quite shaken the habit to be armored, even when it isn’t necessary, but he’s cut down from full plate to chain mail only, much lighter and easier to move around in—which is vital when hurrying to the training field for an accident, or running to meet a wounded knight at the gates. He wears a simple tabard over his mail, blue with red edging (the Queen’s colors), and keeps a pouch of bandages and other aid supplies belted to his waist instead of a sword.

Ash (Undergloom Sans): The livery of the king’s court, gray and gold, but dyed into fabrics suitable for common folk. He still wears gray when not performing at court, tunics so thickly woven they could pass as a gambeson and often paired with hooded cloaks, but he keeps his golds set aside until needed to keep them in good condition. He takes equal care of his shiny brass sackbut (it’s a horn, with a very funny name but an instrument nonetheless) so it always plays well.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): Off-white and tan linens, loose and breathable for hot work in the kitchens, sleeves rolled up and pinned at the elbows to keep them from getting in the way. Always an apron about his waist, occasionally with food stains after a long day’s work but these he quickly tends to as soon as he’s able. He has nothing in the way of real finery but tries very hard to make sure what he has is clean and presentable.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Fine brocaded doublets of rich red and shining gold thread, as a duke and brother to a king, he does have to dress the part a bit. He wears more jewelry, especially rings, but nearly always still has his dire-wolf fur cloak over his shoulders. When called for executions, he dresses down quite a bit, in simple black cloth with only a leather pauldron over one shoulder to help brace the weight of his axe before he swings.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Half plate armor essentially at all times, even formal or polite occasions—he’s the owner of a stolen throne and all too aware that it could be stolen from him the same way he got it. His breastplate is scaled and his pauldrons are elaborately spiked, but it’s all black. The only pop of color on him is his crown, the same worn by Asgore and Undyne, gold and sharp, with rubies inlaid.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): Chain mail over a finely-made kaftan and beneath a traveling cloak, the latter two with signs of wear from a long journey. His head is notably absent of a crown—left behind in the kingdom he fled—but a new one awaits him soon, of flashing silver and blue stone, depicting the phases of the moon. When fully established in his new kingdom, he may begin dressing as a proper king again, draping himself in the blue and silver finery of the land that sheltered him.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Browns, greens, and blacks, he wears light leather armor—really just a breastplate and vambraces—and a thick woolen cloak about his shoulders. He has no need of greaves for his shins, legs lost to an accident in the wilderness, but supplanted by magical prosthetics, living blackened wood provided by his land when he called upon it for aid. …Not that he’s fully accepted that it’s his land, keeping his crown of twisting copper and emerald tucked away in a saddlebag instead of on his brow. Maybe someday…

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Rich purple and verdant green, amidst a sea of black—he favors very fine fabrics with open lacing at the chest. Still not especially fond of jewelry, but wears considerably more decorative leather braces on forearms, shins, and even the occasional full-chest corset. (He has some chronic pain and the extra pressure and support in certain spots helps.) He wears considerably more plain clothes for knight-training purposes and when traveling wears a black cloak with a cowl that comes down over the hole in his face at a point, as the beak of a raven.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): Usually in half plate splint mail armor for his patrols along the wall, but favors rusty oranges, brown and black for the tunics and boots and breeches he wears out of it. Often carries a lantern, and always has tinder in a pouch on his hip. Beside his pouch is a war-horn in case an alert would need to be called, loud enough to make everyone come running if it’s ever sounded.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): A cavalierly styled courtier, at first having made do with graciously lent clothing and now being able to buy his own in a whole variety of rich colors—yellow, blue, magenta, and on. His aim is to look at home in court, which means he must dress as other courtiers do, so he has doublets and fine tunics and many, many fashionable capelets with embroidery and stylish pins, as well as a few equally chic plumed hats. The other courtiers look to him now for the latest fashion trends and he couldn’t be happier.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): A bit more subdued in style than his brother…though only a bit. He favors black frocks, almost as a cleric would wear, but beneath them, elegant doublets in greens and yellows as vibrant as anything his twin wears, with fine silver filigree work in his buckles and pins and clasps. He’s the pinnacle of restrained class and taste and it’s no wonder at all that the king should respect him so highly if his care in thought is as his care in appearance.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): Deep, dark black from head to toe, most prominently a long hooded cloak with two eye-lights glowing in the darkness. He always wears gloves and never lets his hood down, as he’s not especially fond of his metal bones and doesn’t really wish to be seen. It’s difficult to see in the daytime, but at night he’s trailed by faint wisps of ghostly light in all colors of the rainbow, such a strange sight that many a drunkard who’s seen him has poured out their bottle presuming they’d had quite a bit too much.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): Full plate armor, of course, but as he’s now some sort of spectral entity, it (and he!) glows and is slightly see-through. Being ghostly has washed out his colors quite thoroughly which is unfortunate—mostly all white with hints of silvery blue—but on the up-side he seems able to change his appearance some by will alone, donning or discarding his helmet at will, manifesting a majestic cape for himself out of the ether, and so on. It seems a fair enough trade to him!

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): A man at court now, he’s donned an eye-patch and abandoned the trappings of prospective knighthood, fully embraced courtier fashion…if a bit ‘eccentrically.’ He favors bright yellows and spring greens, flowing garments of fine cloth layered beneath and over leather vambraces, gorget, and tasset. All these are elaborately, intricately designed and certainly make the similarly intricate gold jewelry (with multicolored gems) that he wears at wrist and neck stand out, but it’s hardly in fashion… Still, the mystic’s thinking is often inscrutable.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): Unlike his brother, very fashionable and eye-catching, in rich amaranths and brilliant turquoises, with even the occasional lavender. He has many fine embroidered doublets, threaded liberally with gold, and wears many pieces of gold jewelry as well—necklaces, bracelets, pins, and brooches. When showing the birds of the crown at court or bidding them on a royal hunt, he wears the livery of the crown-proper—royal purple and gold—and always has a thick leather falconer’s glove on his left hand.

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): What’s black and white and red all over? Well, newspapers haven’t been invented yet, so it’s him, of course! He’s no jester so he hasn’t a motley to wear to work, but he is a performer and does dress in the livery of the king, which is red and black. The material is a bit finer than he’s used to, but being that he’s no longer wearing rags and rotting in a hole, he’s quite pleased with it and doesn’t mind the bright colors that help him attract the eyes of many comely nobles at court. Off-duty, he sticks to loose, somewhat open tunics—red still very much preferred.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): Laced linen shirts, not especially loosely fitting due to his largeness in the chest and shoulders but he hasn’t burst any seams in awhile so the measurements must be somewhat correct. He’s fond of white and a true connoisseur of red, all shades from dark to very light. He keeps an array of small carpentry tools—hammers, chisels, things for measuring—in a roll on his hip, a dedicated apprentice to the core.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): All black, pourpoint armor beneath fine silk doublets but almost disappointingly plain otherwise—no embroidery, no ornament, or stitched pattern, or brocade. Over this he wears a cloak, equally fine and with at least some ostentation, a bit of silver stitched decoration that matches the intimidatingly clawed silver gauntlet he wears upon his left hand—a symbol of his wealth, if not his status. These flashy items are for matters of court only, as he has a much more nondescript hooded cloak and less identifiable sharp implement which he uses for matters of stealth and misdeeds when it is important that he not be recognized.

Hunter (Swapfell Frution Papyrus): A prince in princely attire…mostly. He happily flaunts the color purple but proudly wears it with the black of his old family name, and drapes himself in silk tunics, fine (mostly decorative) pauldrons, capes and capelets. He tends to show off a bit more of his chest than seems appropriate for a man of his station, and seems to wear his elegant silver jewelry in ways such that the eye is drawn there, and…other places, but few question the whims of royalty. His pewter crown is heavy and inelegant and he’s talked much with his brother about how angry people would be if he had it melted and recast into something more stylish.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): Plain, rough tunics, in black and dark brown. He wears a heavy fur-lined gabardine as it gets quite cold in the dungeons, though it’s uncertain where he managed to get such a nice garment. He keeps a knife on his belt, large and jagged-toothed, and though he hasn’t had need to use it yet, the threat of it tends to keep most prisoners from attempting to bring him harm.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): He’s traded in his full plate armor for a comfortably fit leather jerkin, accompanied by matching gauntlets to protect his hands and torso (inasmuch as they need protection, without flesh) from the thorns he trims back every day. He mostly wears black and white and brown, all things closely fit to his body, less they snag overmuch and need to be replaced too often. His clothing is simple but well-suited to his work, and he wears it nicely.

[skeleton-mischief]

Introductions with a Skeleton in a Suit and Tie

Thinking about a fanfic idea where it's the mob skeletons x reader and like like like one set is the one that the reader works for as a bartender and depending on which one they work for it influences the fanfic and stuff. Like, I imagine how whichever one the reader works for definitely would impact the skeletons as well and their perspective on them.

Let me just get this out. For one, I have more Mafia interpretations for other Sanses and Papyri but I'm going wild over the major three AU's Tale, Fell, and Swap. This is a rather simplified idea of what I think the first interactions would go for mob sans. I will work on the others a different time >:)

Bullet and Ace: Mafiatale Sans and Papyrus

Set in the 1920's, you were struggling to earn cash. Working in a shitty city, you dealt with a shitty boss in a shitty backrooms bar that shitty people went to. As time went on, you noticed that monsters would rarely visit, and you understood why. After all, you lived in an area where Humans and Monsters would conflict with one another due to terf wars. The bar, which of course was illegal to work at, allowed Monsters, but it was clear that not many welcomed them. It was common that customers would glare and other workers would be snippy or purposely make mistakes. Quite a few times, you would hear about what would happen when you weren't on shift. It wasn't something you particularly enjoyed, especially since you know that the other workers don't like you too much.

You had a strong opinion on how to treat others, and that was with respect until they disrespected you. You had a confrontational personality, and you weren't afraid to stand up to others because of it. It's not a common trait here in this infected city, where corruption would even destroy the most rational of mind. You have been threatened, jumped, and you have the scars to prove it. You hold this with pride though, even if you've almost died over it.

Don't get it wrong, you were a playful and overall kind Human, but you refused to deal with Humans talking shit about the Monsters here. They have dealt with enough, and if you can help it, you will make sure they can at least have a couple of drinks in peace. In fact, it was your impulsivity and strong sense of beliefs that got you where you are now. You don't regret it though, not one bit.

You have been working at the bar tonight since 10 'o clock. Nothing seemed too out of order today, except that you have been hearing about the whispers of suspicious rumors. Apparently, a new district has moved in, and has already made themselves comfortable in their territory. How this has happened is unknown, but it's quite an open secret for those that do know. You didn't have to guess too long that it was a Monster group, especially with how the folk along the streets have been cursing their names more so than usual.

Your hands went smoothly over the glass as you cleaned with a cloth, your fingers firm yet precise as you did so. Your eyes focused on the intricate details as the sounds of smooth jazz and small talk filled the corners of your mind. ...a Monster group, huh? A part of you wondered how long it would take for you to get fired over getting involved in a fight happening inside the very bar you worked at.

It was clear that something was wrong when you noticed the sudden drop in volume among the customers. You tilted your head up, your hands working subconsciously still to clean each glass properly as you scanned the room. The air held an air of electricity, however faint, and you wondered if it was the tension from your customers or if it was due to the monster walking through the entrance. A short, rather thick boned skeleton directly made his way towards you. He wore a crisp black suit that seemed to pair well with the porcelain appearance of his bone.

He was about 5'5, his shoulders rolled back with ease. If you weren't paying attention, he could've fooled anyone with the wide smile he wore. He moved with a languid, smooth confidence. To you, he looked harmless, but you knew better. There was a strange look in his eye, a curiosity that didn't feel right mixed in with the scent of cigars and pine. He sat directly across from you, nodding his head politely. "May I request an order?" "Of course, and what is it that you'd like to order?" "Hm...do you have Lucky Star on hand?"

Of course you did, rarely did a monster come here, so having a monster drink was a given despite the lack of needing it much. You always made sure it came in with the shipments, even if your other coworkers found it pointless. "Of course," you smiled, turning your back from him to get straight to work. You felt his eyelights staring at you as you did so, but it didn't feel piercing. Rather, it felt like he was looking at you with curiosity, even if it was intently. You didn't turn around though or comment, you've had to shrug off multiple customers doing the same damn thing.

You slid it across the counter and he swiftly caught it, raising his glass towards you with a smile and a slight nod. "Why thank you, do you take gold? I can scrounge up cash if need be," "Sorry sir, but we only take cash." "Not a problem," He was brief, and so you were in return. You watched him pull a small wallet, opening it and handing you a wad of cash. You swiftly dealt with it. "Will that be all, sir?" You asked, only to see a spark in his eyelight. You felt that he was waiting for you to say that.

"Actually," He took a swig of his glass, the beverage a light, translucent blue swirled with citrus and cherry. "I was wondering something, if you'll humor me?" He set his glass down and rested his jaw against the palm of his hand, tilting his head to the side. He didn't wait for an answer. "Do you know what types of jokes skeletons make?" This left you a little confused, raising your brow as you took a moment to process what he said. Huh?? "I-I'm...pardon?" "Well, don't keep me waiting, what kind?"

You had to think for a moment, but nothing came up. You shrugged your shoulders slightly and spoke. "I do not know sir, what kind?" "Humerus ones, of course." You took a moment to understand, and the side of your lip twitched before you tried to suppress your smile. "Excuse me?" "Though, bad ones go into the skele-bin." You found that your mouth smiled involuntarily, your features trying to remain composed. "What's the matter? Do humans not have a funny bone?" He just kept on going, didn't he? The twinkle in his eyes revealed enough, and as a small noise escaped you, his grin only widened.

"Tibia-honest, I thought you had one in you. But I guess you're like me, things just go right through you, huh?" Before you could stop yourself, a snort left your lips as you pressed a hand over your mouth. He leaned on the counter some more, his eye sockets scrunching up as if the bone worked differently than a Humans. "Was that a laugh? Oh I think it was, I can feel it in my bones. No-body here seems to understand me, but you do."

By now, you couldn't keep your composure, and he was eating it up. "S-Sir, please-" "What? Am I being a numb-skull? Forgive me if so, I'm just a little bonely," Oh no no no. You instantly let yourself speak, and you would say you regret it if that was true. "I'm not tired of this yet, sir, but your puns are bad to the bone," "Guilty as charged," He chuckled, a visible tension you didn't see before leaving him. You wonder if he was trying to ease the tension that so easily filled the bar in his presence, but it was working for him thankfully. "Please, I need to remain serious," "Why? I don't have the stomach to stop myself,"

Your own laughter filled your ears among the quiet jazz in the bar and you missed the way he looked at you. For a moment, if you were able to notice, you would have seen the joy and relief in his features, and maybe a small tint of blue. "Please?" "Okay okay, this might be getting a little bone dry if I don't stop. My name is Bullet, it's a pleasure to meet you." Bullet, what a name. Well, you figured that it was better than a name like Robert for a skeleton. Maybe Monsters had a different custom for names, you wouldn't question it. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you too, sir-" "Please, call me Bullet," "-Okay, Bullet. What's a skeleton like you doing around here, hm? Not like it's my business though." You inquired, before you noticed the slight shift in his posture.

"Ah, well, I just so happened to find this place while wandering around. I'm new to the area." He said with an averted gaze, his phalanges slightly fidgeting with his tie, which you just noticed was done incorrectly. He looked so at ease, which confused you when you could see the tension in his hands. You were more acute than the average Human, since it's kept you away from danger, so these things didn't pass you. His response was brief though, honest. "I suspected as much, you're...nicer than my usual," You joked, and his white eyelights flicker back to you. They had a pretty tint to them, ever faint, of a blue similar to the stone on his silver chained broach. Topaz, you suspected, which was a swiss blue. What a gem, those don't come cheap. It made you wonder what made a skeleton who could afford such a thing to come to this shit hole of a bar?

It seemed to do the trick for him to smoothly slide away from himself, and he grabbed that opportunity with a swift efficiency. "Oh? Please, do share what you mean." You brushed off the fact he subtly was uncomfortable about talking about himself. You were the same way for your personal life, so you wouldn't dare think of prying. Remaining decisively oblivious has gotten you far in life, after all. "Didn't you feel the clear emotion of friendship and joy of this bar on your way in?" You asked with exaggerated shock and sarcasm.

He snorted a laugh, before he raised a bonebrow(?) at you. "Okay okay, I get it. No need to be like that now," He relented, raising his palms up in mock defeat. "I'm just surprised you think of me kindly enough to comment on it," He confessed, before he grabbed his drink. He hasn't chugged down his drink, you noted. Usually, Monsters who felt unwelcomed in bars like this would make sure to take their glass and finish it off quickly. Instead, he kept that languid ease, relaxed as he took his time to savor each drink. You suddenly were struck with a thought. How could he drink when he's a skeleton? That felt invasive to ask though.

"Well, Bullet, folks around here aren't known for their manners. You've been a great customer, and it's a pleasure to serve you." You replied kindly, straightening up as you went back to cleaning glasses behind the counter. You kept yourself facing him however, to show your interest in socializing. "I hope that you know that I find you nicer than my usual as well, then," Bullet commented, his phalanges plucking a cherry from inside the glass before he popped it behind his permanent smile. "Kinder too, with excellent manners and excellent humor."

You barked out a laugh at that, but you believed him when he complimented you with sincerity. "Excellent humor? Your puns are awful," "But I got you to laugh, didn't I? I count that as a certified win!" He proudly exclaimed, placing his hand on the counter as he straightened and pointed your way while holding the glass. "Don't ignore what else I said though, too. You're an excellent bartender."

You haven't felt this comfortable with a customer in awhile. If you were to describe it in detail, you'd best describe it as if a warmth orbited the two of you. There, a lack of the outside world made things feel all the better. You leaned your arm against the counter, bent forward as you raised an eyebrow. "Well thank you, I try. I know this part of the city is harsher to folks like you. Please know that you're welcome here by me anytime,"

He seemed to appreciate that, with how his eyelights grew a little fuzzy around the edges and dilated ever so slightly. It felt natural to get along with the skeleton, even if it started a little strange. He tilted his head upwards, leaning closer. He didn't invade your space, but it was crystal clear to you that he could practically wrap his hand around your shoulder if he wanted to. His smile softened, and he kept his eyes locked onto your own. "You're truly a dear, I'll keep that in mind..." His voice softened to a smoother tone, as if he wanted to say something more. Alas, he didn't get the chance to.

His phalanges twitched suddenly, and your eyes broke from his as you glanced behind him. The rest of the bar seemed to be normal except for the few lingering glares of drunken idiots in the corner tables. They seemed to be growing silently more worked up, muttering amongst themselves as the sensations of malice were directed to both of your way. His eyes flickered towards their direction without turning his head, before he glanced back at you. His gaze lingered on your eyes, before he glanced down at your chest and then slowly to your hands. He extended his hand forward, careful as he offered it to you.

You accepted it of course, and you knew what he was going to say before he spoke. "For now, though, I think I've started to overstay my welcome." He hummed, your tongue clicking behind your teeth for a moment in silent but begrudging acceptance. "That's quite a shame. I was starting to wonder what else I'd get to learn about you." You felt his thumb pressing against the back of your hand, rubbing it subconsciously. He pulled your hand to his face, and for a moment you were confused.

You weren't for long however, as you felt a tingling sensation pressing against the back of your hand. Was that...a kiss? He looked up at you and winked playfully, before he shook your hand with a controlled firmness. "I guess you'll have to wait. You don't mind doing that, do you?" He smirked, his natural charm causing you to snort. You felt the warmth in your cheeks, but you couldn't help but give him a purely honest smile that seemed to warm the skeletons bones. "I don't, I don't mind at all. You have to promise to come back though, alright? Who else can give me such awful puns and good companionship?"

He let go of your hand with some reluctance, as if he wanted to linger in your warmth. You felt a little sad to see him go, but he quickly reassured you. "You really know how to put a skeleton in a corner, huh? You strike a hard bargain, though, so I'll bite. I promise that I will, as long as I can find you, okay?" He asked you, adjusting his suit as he pulled out a cigar from his inside pocket. He didn't light it, though, perhaps due to some manners of his. You nodded your head, your eyes crinkling slightly as you straightened up yourself.

"It's a deal then. Get home safely, alright?" He winked at you again, a bonebrow raised as he chuckled. "I can handle myself perfectly fine. Don't waste your time on me, okay? I have a few tricks up these sleeves, danger passes straight through me."

"You already used that joke, Bullet."

"Point taken."

He waved to you as he turned away, the heel of his shoes causing him a swift turn as he had the last word of your first interaction. "Farewell, I'll see you again soon..." If only you realized how soon, maybe then you would have had time to prepare how this skeleton was going to change your life for the better...

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Closing Notes: Oh this was longer than I anticipated. I had fun though, and I hope you guys enjoy what idea I had in mind when typing this. Thank you for reading, please tell me what you guys think :-))

[timeofjuly]

And Four Papyri in a Pear Tree

Chapter 1 - Smooth Operator

Summary: Rus takes you ice skating for the first time and despite some initial wobbliness, only one of you ends up on your ass.

Notes: The first chapter of And Four Papyri in a Pear Tree, my four-part holiday series focusing on festive-themed dates with Rus, Edge, Stretch, and Papyrus.

Tags: Reader/swapfell Papyrus, ice skating, fluff, established relationship.

Read it on AO3 or read it below the cut!

“lookin’ a little wobbly there, baby doll,” Rus teases, looking unfairly steady on his skates. Behind him, a vast expanse of glistening ice stretches out under the open sky, reflecting the soft glow of twinkling lights that adorn the perimeter of the skating rink. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of freshly fallen snow and the rhythmic sound of blades gliding over the smooth surface.

Your own skates slide perilously against the ice, your legs clenched tight to stop your knees from slipping out from underneath you.

“Nuh-uh,” you say, willing your fingers to loosen their grip on the barrier. “I’ve just got knives attached to my feet, what’s scary about that?  It’s not like ice is slippery or anything.”

Rus chuckles. “c’mon, don’t’cha trust me? if you’re that scared, it’s not too late for me to get you a penguin.”

As if summoned by the cruel forces of comedic timing, a small child breezes past the two of you pushing said skating aid. They seem entirely at ease and as you watch, they remove their hands from the penguin with an elated whoop.

“Look, no hands!” they call out, presumably to a parent.

Your resolve, which has previously been a gelatinous mass quivering at the pit of your belly, hardens. Like hell you’re being shown up by a kid. “Nope,” you say to Rus, “I’m good.”

You aren’t, though. You’re nervous. You probably shouldn’t have watched that video about the top ten career-ending ice hockey accidents last night. Ah, hindsight. At least you’re wearing a thick scarf; hopefully that’ll protect your neck from any errant skating blades.

“if you’re sure,” he says. In contrast to the pitiful display you’re putting on, Rus looks completely at home on the ice. More graceful than he is on solid ground, even, though that’s not necessarily that high of a bar. There’s a natural ease to him like this, a confidence that you’ve only caught snatches of before.

“i’m ready whenever you are,” he says. His thick woollen sweater reads FESTIVE GUY and is a particularly fetching shade of eggplant.  His cheeks are faintly lilac from the cold that nips through the air, his long, delicate hands encased in cosy mittens.

Those mittened hands are held out to you now. Anxiety flickers in your chest but then you look at him again, at how steady he is, how the long lines of his body are looser and more relaxed than you’ve ever seen them outside of the safety of privacy, and that gives you all the bravery you need.

You take his hands, the chill of the rink being chased away through your gloves. Your fingers curl between his phalanges in a grip that would surely be bruising if he had flesh. As you step further onto the ice, you wobble perilously, struggling to find your balance. Your ankles feel heavy and clumsy, your feet dead weight. How do people make this look so easy? You’ve never felt so unwieldy in your life.

“you’re okay,” he says, holding you steady. “that’s perfect.”

The standards for perfect must be low.

You’re too busy concentrating on not falling on your ass – no, hands and knees, the video you watched in preparation for this said that letting your arms absorb the impact is the safest way to fall – so you can’t articulate that thought into an appropriately clever remark, so you just settle on responding with a dubious look.

His grip tightens reassuringly – you feel like he’s holding all of your weight at this point - and he begins guiding you across the smooth surface. He’s making it look so easy, skating backwards with practiced, smooth motions. You feel like a newborn giraffe in comparison, if someone was to sneak into the zoo, strap knife-blades to its hooves, and set it out onto the ice.

"first lesson: find your centre of gravity," he says, his voice low and encouraging. "keep your knees slightly bent, and let the skates do the work."

“What does that even mean?” you say, a little panicked, but you quickly mimic his stance. It’s awkward at first – you’re ready to tip face-first into him at any moment, but with enough gradual, tiny adjustments, you start to feel a little steadier. The tempo of the music playing over the rink's speakers helps you keep your movements rhythmic, and you find yourself feeling more and more confident.

“there you go,” he says. Despite yourself, warmth floods your chest at the praise.

“I feel like you’re doing all the work, not me or the skates,” you say. “How the hell are you so good at this? I’ve seen you trip over your own bone constructs.”

He lets go of one of your hands to press a wounded hand to his chest and you flail in its absence, letting out a startled eep.

“hey, i am beauty and i am grace. ’specially compared to you right now.”

He snatches your hand back before you can really panic, but as you recover, you realise that you probably weren’t in any danger of falling anyway. One, you trust that Rus would catch you and two, you’re feeling a little steadier on your skates now. Maybe you’re getting the hang of this! The Zamboni isn’t going to run you over after all.

“Aw, you don’t think I’m pretty?” You affect an exaggerated pout.

He laughs, but his cheeks tinge purple. “’course i think you’re pretty. you’re my cute little baby squirrel, slippin’ around on the ice. like in ice age.”

“… thank you?”

“you’re welcome, scrat.”

Eh. You can live with that. Dude has tenacity you can appreciate.

Besides, all this teasing is distracting you from looking down at your own feet and throwing yourself off-balance. Rus continues to glide you around the rink and the sounds of the other skaters seem to fall away, leaving just the two of you and the sounds of your skates sliding against the ice. You gently lap around, each pass making you feel more and more comfortable.

“Still, there’s got to be a reason you’re so good at this,” you press. “There’s not some secret winter Olympics Underground I don’t know about, right?”

He snorts. “hah. nah, nothing like that. not much time for organised sports when everyone’s tryin’ to avoid being dusted. i just did a lot of skating on my own, back when i was in stripes,” he says, and though the tone is off handed, you get the sense that this is far more significant than his voice is letting on. “spent a lot of hours out on the ice. with enough practice, angel eyes, anyone’d pick it up. even you.”

He lets go of your hand again, this time to boop your nose. When he takes it again, his grip is far looser, and you find that you’re staying upright of your own volition. Part of you is tempted to let go completely and see what you can do on your own now that you’ve got the basics down, but fuck, the enjoyment you’re getting from holding his hand is overriding your competitive spirit.

He’s also still towing you around and you have no idea how to actually make yourself go, but little details.

“There’s not much ice or snow from where I’m from, so I never learnt,” you say. “We’d get this gross, dirty sleet sometimes in the winter, but not much else. I used to be so jealous of kids who got to have white Christmases. Did Black teach you to do this?”

Fondness colours his features. “yeah, he did. he was good like that. not many of the other kids liked to go out onto the ice, so i think he thought that if i stayed out there, they wouldn’t pick on me. when i got older, it was a good way to get away from everything for a while.”

You imagine a younger Black taking an even younger Rus by the hands and leading him out onto the ice, guiding him in the way he’s guiding you now. You wonder what being picked on as a kid looked like in their universe, that cruel, brutal place. You doubt that it amounted to simple teasing.

Your chest aches at the thought, but you quash it down. Today is a day for good things; you’re not going to dwell on a past you have no way of changing.

“You must’ve learnt some pretty cool tricks, then,” you say, pushing levity into your tone.

The words chase away the hint of melancholy that had been lurking on his skull. He grins at you, lazy and languid and confident, and says, “oh, sugar plum, you have no idea.”

The two of you both glide to a stop on the side of the rink. You let go of his hands and grasp back onto the barrier. You feel safe now to stay standing without his assistance.

“Go on, then,” you say, angling your chin towards the ice. “Impress me.”

He takes the ice, his movements fluid and confident. The chilly air echoes with the scrape of blades against the smooth surface, and he shoots you a mischievous grin. With each stride, he gains momentum, twirling effortlessly with a grace that makes you dizzy. Your breath catches as he executes a flawless spin, his body a whirl of controlled motion. The ice seems to respond to his every command, and he carves intricate patterns with finesse.

With a final, daring leap, he lands with a flourish, a triumphant smile lighting up his face. The ice seems to shimmer in approval of his performance.

As he skates back to your side, there's a glint of anticipation in his eyes, silently asking if he managed to impress.

And in that moment, under the twinkling lights of the ice rink, you can't help but feel the warmth of his efforts.

Fuck, you’re getting mushy. You can’t find it in you to be upset about that, though.

“well?” he says.

Your applause is muffled by your gloves, but the intent is the same. “That was amazing! Do you reckon I could learn to go that fast today? Oh, or even backwards? Both at the same time seems a little ambitious.”

“maybe just a little,” he says, cheeks flushed from your praise. “we can work on it, though. just getting you to go under your own power today is a good goal. that you’re standin’ with no support now is impressive on its own.”

You look down at yourself and then at your arms and huh, would you look at that. Granted, you’re not moving yet, but you’re getting there!

You cast your eyes back out onto the ring to see the small child from earlier gliding around the ice, skating aid now discarded. You point a gloved finger towards them.

“Do you think I could at least go faster than that kid today?” you say.

Rus looks amused but doesn’t question your choice of a benchmark. “maybe, but don’t stress if you can’t. you’re doing really good for your first time on the ice,” he says. “i don’t want you fallin’ and cracking your head open because you bite off more than you can chew. don’t worry, we can come back for more practice. if you want. it’s okay if you, don’t, though, i -.”

“We are definitely coming back,” you say. You’re determined to at least learn one trick before the holidays are over. “You’re stuck with me now, coach.”

“does that mean you’ll get one of those leotards?”

“If you wear one too, sure,” you agree. “Maybe we can get matching ones.”

He takes your hands again and starts pulling you around the ice, slow and deliberate. You do your best to match his movements. The two of you make another slow lap and though you’re too focussed to be chatty, the silence doesn’t feel awkward. He gives you the occasional helpful, if teasing, pointer and your confidence continues to grow.

“well, how’s your first time on the ice shapin’ up so far?” he asks you after another lap. “everything you were hoping for?” The words are joking, but you can see his sincerity.

Your chest feels all warm and soft and suddenly, you don’t feel the chill of the ice at all. You steel yourself and use your handhold to pull yourself closer to him, slowing your pace, and then let go of his hands altogether, bringing one now free hand to cup the side of his skull. Your gloved fingers splay across his zygomatic arch.

He nuzzles into your palm, sockets drooping.

“Good,” you say. Your voice is soft. “Really, really good.”

“i – heh.” He ducks his head, but he can’t hide the colour that flushes his skull.

In an attempt to recover gracefully, he takes a misstep, his skates catching an edge. Before you both know it, he's tripping over his own feet, arms flailing in an attempt to regain balance.

To no avail. He crashes down into the ice, bony ass first. You narrowly avoid getting taken down with him.

“Oh my god,” you say, unable to stifle the laughter that bubbles up your throat. “Are you okay?”

Rus attempts to clamber to his feet, trying – and failing – to get his legs back underneath him. With each slip back onto the ice, the vivid mauve dusting his cheeks deepens further.

Eventually, he rights himself, skull blazing purple. “’m fine. that was exactly what i was going for. grand finale. ta-da.” The words are said with accompanying jazz-hands.

Still laughing, you pluck one of his hands from the air and pull yourself towards him.

“Real smooth,” you say. “Come on, you charmer. I want to have another go.”

[punsmaster69]

8/DEC/20XX

a deep breath, and i feel a sense of nostalgia.

weird nostalgia. wouldn't go back, but i still think fondly of what happened.

the crispness of the cold air in snowdin takes me back- and i'm already reminiscing about random memories.

point to almost any rock formation along the walls of this place, and papyrus can probably tell you exactly how he's climbed it.

kicking the snow with my slippers a little bit, i remember how he used to warn me about wearing 'em outside.

—-

"YOU'LL SLIP AND FALL IN THOSE!!"

"naahh. i'll be fine."

"......"

"SEE? EVEN GRILLBY AGREES IT'S A BAD IDEA!!"

—-

for the most part, i always was fine; just had to be careful around the ice.

fortunately, it's not an issue using shortcuts; really only ever slipping a few times.

—-

"I SAID THIS WOULD HAPPEN."

"you've slipped even in your boots."

"THAT WAS A ONE-OFF ACCIDENT!"

"so was this."

sliding me across the ice until we were close enough to the snow to stand again, papyrus lifted me onto my feet once more.

"I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA."

"you've gotta admit that over two weeks without slipping in these is pretty good."

"THERE'D HARDLY BE SLIPPING AT ALL IF YOU WOULD JUST PUT ON BETTER FOOTWEAR."

"these are way better."

"OBVIOUSLY NOT?! YOU 𝘑𝘜𝘚𝘛 SLIPPED!"

"but with snow boots, you have to tie 'em and whatnot."

"YOU DO THAT WITH MOST SHOES, SANS."

"not with slippers."

"YOU'RE GOING TO WEAR SLIPPERS ALL THE TIME.."

"JUST SO THAT YOU DON'T HAVE TO TIE THEM?"

"yep."

"that's the plan."

"YOUR ABILITY TO CONSISTENTLY FIND THE LAZIEST ROUTE IN EVERY ASPECT OF LIFE CONFOUNDS ME, BROTHER."

"IT'S ALMOST IMPRESSIVE."

"thanks. that's the one thing i do put effort into."

"...BEING LAZY."

"it's hard work, doing this little."

—-

ahh.

back when new bad habits of mine still surprised him.

...speakin' of bad habits.

grillby's looks like it hasn't been touched since the day we took all the important stuff up.

the most one'll find in there now is a fine layer of dust only disturbed by me brushing against some stuff.

not that the jukebox ever worked before, but i'm pretty sure it wouldn't turn on if you tried at this point.

——

already knew the librarby was empty; they gave away all the books before leaving to the surface.

took the sciencey ones, myself.

wanted the joke book too, but a certain old lady got to it first.

officially, it is hers.

unofficially, the book keeps bouncing between being in either of our possession for months at a time.

it's gained a few pages over the years, a lined-paper section at the end with a lotta skeleton and snail puns.

think paps split the cookbooks with someone, and hoarded the puzzle books.

(not like anyone else was readin' those, anyway.)

there were a couple on monster history i'm almost certain i've seen frisk with a few times, so they must've gotten those.

as charming as this little place was, the new library's got way more selection.

sorry, not library.

still librarby.

they kept the name. too iconic to change it.

even if it had been changed, we'd all continue to call it the librarby anyway.

——

many of the folks who had shops down here have taken up that same role on the surface.

the two bunnies running the inn and shop moved somewhere closer to new home city for better business.

——

in the snow, i did what i'd done a million times in the past.

i parked myself at the foot of the door which separated snowdin from the ruins.

—-

"knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

she'd say.

"cash."

"Cash who?"

"no thanks, i'm more of a walnut guy."

and i'd heard her burst out into laughter from the other side.

"Knock, knock."

"who's there?"

"Hatch."

"hatch who?"

"Oh, bless you."

then she'd laughed at her own joke hard enough to be contagious.

"knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"canoe."

"Canoe who?"

"canoe come out here? i'm gettin' bonely."

she got a good kick out of that one, but her laughter had a tinge of sadness to it.

"...But, I am afraid not."

didn't expect any different of an answer.

always thinking it better not to ask quite why, i shrugged.

"one day, maybe."

"or not."

"you could just be mysterious door lady forever if you want."

"....."

"Knock, knock."

"who's there?"

"Peas."

"peas who?"

"Peas excuse my secretiveness. I know it can be a bit off-putting."

"everyone's got their secrets, 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘸 problem to me if you keep a few."

"Ha! I am glad that you are so 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭 with it."

"It is a joy to hear your 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭 jokes every day!"

"nice to have someone with an a-𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳-able laugh to tell 'em to."

my slight regret about that pun immediately washed away upon hearing the laugh in question follow after it.

—-

....welp.

as fun as reminiscing has been, i've definitely left papyrus alone for far too long.

gotta spend at least a little time in the snow with him.

that's what we came back here for in the first place.

——

"WHEN DO YOU THINK IT'LL SNOW ON THE SURFACE?"

"it's supposed to get pretty cold soon, so probably not too long now."

"besides."

"if your desire for snow gets too awful bad, we'll just come down here again."

"WE SHOULD BRING FRIENDS WITH US NEXT TIME!"

"would be cool to re-visit the whole underground with everyone after all this time."

"OH!"

he sat straight up in the snow, scattering the powder around as he did so.

"YOU KNOW WHAT WE SHOULD DO?"

"what's that?"

"COME, COME! QUICKLY!!"

——

from that very same spot we all first looked in awe at our new future, me and him watched the sun set.

golden light poured over everything; sun beams warm in contrast to the town we've left once again.

"WHEN WE FIRST MOVED OUT FOR GOOD, I REALLY THOUGHT I'D MISS IT MORE."

"THOUGH, I DIDN'T EXACTLY HAVE THAT FEELING OF TRAPPED-NESS ON THE SAME LEVEL EVERYONE ELSE SEEMED TO."

"IT'S HARD TO GET BORED WHEN YOU'RE THE MOST ENTERTAINING SKELETON AROUND!"

"WITH THE COOLEST BROTHER AROUND."

"aww."

"...MAYBE I DID FEEL TRAPPED A LITTLE.. BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER ANYMORE."

"WE'RE ALL ON THE SURFACE TOGETHER, AND THAT 𝗜𝗦 WHAT MATTERS!"

when he turned to look at me, i couldn't tell whether his face was lit up more by the sun or the smile he had.

"I'M REALLY HAPPY HERE."

"me too."

[prettypetals-900]

Love Notes

Pairings: UT Sans x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Friends with obvious feelings toward each others, examination of the human body, fluff, sweet.

Sans had a hard tiring day at work. He needed to relax. He couldn’t go home and take his 5th nap of the day in the comfort of his bed, that is till he heard the sweet notes and symphony of the piano playing. No one has touched that thing in years…

The day was brutal, sans usual wide smile faltered as he continued his journey home. Today Papyrus was especially on his case about being on his post, wide and alert. Though Sans loved his dear brother he was not at all pleased with Paps coming to check on him…5 times in a span of an hour at that.

Sans sighed rubbing at his temples before placing his hand back in his coat pocket. The crunch of the snow connecting with his slippers left a trail behind him. The weather was unforgiving today. It was cold and dreary, the sky a dark grey. It wasn’t pleasant to look at.

Though Sans couldn’t help but appreciate it. It was perfect weather to cuddle up in his blankets and take the longest hibernation nap known to monster kind. Maybe watch a couple movies with his favorite human…you. You were the best person to wind down with.

You asked no overbearing questions and always went with the flow. You were like the crisp wind that hit Sans flushed cheekbones. After sparring all monsters and King Asgore, you didn’t complain once about living down here. Having determination and kindness at your side you made friends quickly.

That also included the skeleton brothers. You were patient with Pap and sweet. You treated them like any other being. Which Sans greatly appreciated. You were the first human to show him kindness. He couldn’t help the jitters in his ribcage. Not knowing it it was the thought of you or the cold. Sans finally made it to the front step to their humble home.

He sighed a happy relief, his grin finally coming back to normal till he heard it. The sound of a piano. The notes sung softly outside the door, quietly but noticeable to anyone who was up close. He got confused for a second with his guard up.

What if someone broke in? What if they were being robbed…what if they hurt you?

Sans flashed to the living room with his magic. Looking around quietly. He followed the noise to the corner where the fireplace was till he saw it. He stopped in his tracks while his pupils turned to their regular blue color. There you were sitting on the black stool, fingers graciously touching each key.

He arched his brow bone a little confused but amused. You didn’t sense he was there yet, obviously too engrossed into what you were playing. He was clearly enjoying the music. He took off his coat quitely straightening out his white t-shirt before coming to sit by you.

It took you a minute to notice but you jumped a bit feeling a dip in the seat. You looked over to be greeted by a grinning face you knew all too well. “Oh! Hi Sans you scared me.” Your fingers stop playing. He shrugged before leaning back stretching his fingers.

“Didn’t want to interrupt your mojo, sounds pretty good. What are you playing.” He asked with a look of curiosity. You shrugged. “A piece from Mozart I learned while I was younger.” He nodded, watching as you seem to be in ponder of what to play next.

“It sounded pretty good, I would give you an A but in all honesty I could only give you a B flat…” You side eyed him though you couldn’t hide the smile and chuckle. His grin widened as he heard that. It was more beautiful than any key note that you have played.

You sighed as the chuckle subsided. “How was work.” He shrugged as he leaned back to stretch. “Same old same old. Paps made sure to come around more often to check I wasn’t boning around.” He winked towards you and you couldn’t help but blush.

Though you noticed his grin falter and the tiredness in his eyes. It’s been a long day you could already tell. You nodded stroking each key gently; conjuring up what to play next. You looked outside the window, Dreary and cold. You would be tired too.

You shivered a little as you pulled up the turtle neck of your knitted sweater up. “It’s cold out.” You said to no one in particular. He nodded looking out the same window. Looking back at the keys your fingers danced around a couple till you started to play. You remembered a piece of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.

You started to play, slowly at first to get used to the notes you were hearing till you found your groove. You played softly as not too loud to disturb Sans, but enough to keep it as background noise. Sand looked your way. You sensed him and blushed a bit not used to having an audience.

Sans watched you. Your focus and the way you played as though you could see every music note come out the old thing. He was surprised it still worked after having it all these years. It catching dust and beings sans favorite coat hanger. You touched it with care. He observed your hands, how your phalanges were covered with muscle and skin, Covering the bone underneath.

How soft your hands looked and how skillfully quick they were to touch each note. He looked upwards to your face, how the tip of your nose and cheeks were red from the chilliness. Your sweater covering your chin and how your eyebrows scrunched. Playing each note as if it were your last. Your hair let go and unkept. He could stare at you for iones.

He sighed, though not out of tiredness this time. No he sighed because of the beautiful music being played by a beautiful human. He felt his pupils go heart shaped before he closed his eyes. He leaned down with his arms crossed and laid his head.

You made sure not to disturb sans. Playing the notes on the other half of the piano as you watched out for the corner of your eye. He looked so peaceful. Finally comfortable. You watched his shoulder blades rise up and down.

Though you know you didn’t understand how he worked because his magic made it all possible, it was still fun to observe. He looked peaceful as he hummed and tapped his foot every so often. You pushed your foot towards him. He didn’t falter in his movements but more so moved you along with him. You saw his smile brighten a little and your face burn with passion.

You coughed a little before continuing. You continued till the very end of what you can remember and after you turned towards him you couldn’t help but gush a bit inside. He had fallen asleep. His shoulders rising up and down slowly while he breathed evened out. Light blue drool came out the side of his mouth.

Though that didn’t bother you. You were happy he was as this comfortable with you as you are with him. You leaned your head down mimicking him as you looked closer at his features. He was a simple skeleton, but you could stare at him all day if he would let you.

You made sure not to breath too hard as to not disturb him before you shut your own eyes carefully. Looking at him once more and leaning a little closer to ghost the slightest of pecks against his cranium. You quickly backed away before laying your head back down.

If you couldn’t see your souls right now you surely can feel it. It glowed warmly and bright, the feeling filling your chest and tingling your entire body. It filled you with so much Determination.You smiled as your checks tinted red before you finally succumbed to a nap.

Little did you know Sans felt that and couldn’t help the blue hue spread from his checks and his pupils widening into even bigger and brighter hearts. He thanked the stars above that he had his eyes closed. He yawned before finally succumbing to the nap that he eagerly awaited for.

Papyrus finally made it home. His bones shivered as he shook off the falling snow from his shoulders. He looked around to see only a lap turned on. No sign of his human friend or his brother. He breathed in ready..

“SANS? Y/N? WHERE ARE YOU! I…”

He stopped his sentence midway when he came across what he counted as the sweetest moment. There you and his brother were. Huddling up from the cold with your feet entangle with one another. His brother snoring softly while you twitched ever so lightly to the noise.

He squealed, trying not to be loud to disturb you guys. Pulling out a camera from the kitchen he quickly took many pics of you guys. “Now this is honorably going into the photo album NYEHEHE.” He walked over to the blanket throw on the couch before covering you two.

Yall both are going to wake up with soar backs but who is he to disturb this beautiful moment. He smiled before tiptoeing comedically up the stairs. He hushed every squeak the steps made before finally making it into the second floor.

He looked once more down to you guys still cuddling before smiling and going into his room shutting the door. Both of you didn’t make a peep, still off into dreamland. But you two definitely have gotten a little more closer once the blanket was thrown on you guys. For the warmth of course.

Thank you so much for reading! Sorry for the late post, life has definitely been a little more busy lately. But I hope you enjoyed this as much as I loved writing it! Feedback and ideas are greatly appreciated. Till next time MUAH🤍🌻

[themsource]

Crime N(ever) Pays

Rating: M Pairing: UF!Sans/Frisk TW: Smoking

Sans frowned as he searched a pocket of one of the many basketball shorts littering his bedroom floor, his crimson colored eyelights glancing up at his ceiling with growing irritation as he dug around only to feel a few crumpled receipts and random G lining the inside.

“ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me…” He grumbled as he threw the shorts down and went over to his dresser to search his barren sock drawer.

And of course, even that was empty too.

He slammed it shut. “the fuck does a guy have ta do to get a damned smoke around here!?”

Sighing, Sans ran a hand over the top of his skull. He could have sworn he’d bought more than one pack last week, three at most the last time he’d gone out shopping on his day off, but from how it was looking he hadn’t.

Unless he was finally losing his mind.

of course i’d lose my marbles after gettin’ out of the underground… just my fuckin’ luck…

Letting out a huff he stomped out of his room, not bothering to hide his frustration as he slammed his bedroom door shut behind him. Predictably his brother’s voice echoed out from the kitchen as he made his way grumpily down the stairs, “DON’T SLAM THE DOORS! I JUST REPLACED THE FRAMES!”

Sans rolled his eyelights as he ignored him.

“i’m goin’ ta the store! be back in a sec!”

“DAMNIT SANS, DINNER IS ALMOST READY! I SWEAR IF YOU AREN’T BACK IN TEN MINUTES I’LL—”

The rest of his brother’s diatribe was forgotten as it faded in the background, Sans’ eyelights honing in on and dilating as they locked on Frisk seated on the couch. She’d come over to spend the weekend with them as was tradition since they came topside six years ago, the skeleton brothers being her second favorite friends to visit aside from Alphys and Mettaton, and she never missed a visit much to Sans’ amusement and Papyrus’ joy.

But the fact she was there wasn’t what drew the older skeleton brother’s attention.

It was what was dangling from his lips, piping red at the tip as it burned crisp and hot before a gentle plume of white smoke drifted up into the air.

At first, Sans was shocked.

Ever since she turned eighteen Frisk had been trying more daring things and sampling more questionable vices, experimenting, as all teenagers and young adults should. However seeing her dare to do that in his and Papyrus’ house was mind blowing. 

Frisk knew how Papyrus could get, he didn’t like anything questionable going on in his home, especially one of the habits he found the most deplorable: smoking. Sans actively had to make sure he stepped outside every time he wanted to light up. It was the very reason he’d even built their doorless balcony, as a place he could go without worry about upsetting his bro and to avoid being an open target for other monsters back when they were still a hundred feet in the dirt.

But then he quickly became amused as he smirked at her.

Sans went to make a cheeky comment about Papyrus’ latest gardening hobby and how that might tie into a pretty little plot with the Frisk’s name on it, before he narrowed his sockets.

There was a gold band with the MTT insignia on the filter.

…was that one of his cigarettes?

Frisk glanced up at him just as his eyelights flickered up, and their gazes locked.

A sweat drop ran the side of her cheek.

this little shit!

Well, she wasn’t so little anymore, in fact she was taller than him now by about an inch, but that didn’t change the fact that stealing his smokes was such a bratty move he wanted to literally bend her over his knee and spank her.

…his eyelights drifted down to her small chest, perky beneath her sweater dress despite its modest size.

On second thought, doing that probably wouldn’t have been the best idea. He knew the moment he felt any supple part of her press against him he would more than likely try to push the envelope. It was no secret how attractive she’d gotten or well developed. 

Sans was a man, a skeleton monster, but still a man, and he’d noticed a long time ago now before many others had, the surprising and captivating changes Frisk had gone through.

Admittedly, he couldn’t help still feeling tempted to teach her a lesson though. One in a way that he knew he would enjoy the longer he stared at her and took in her beautiful figure and increasingly worried and guilty expression.

While Sans was feeling more and more tempted, Frisk was becoming more nervous.

She didn’t like that cold and calculating look in his gaze.

“is that mine?” He drawled, his voice a dark and menacing pitch as his eyelights gave a soul piercing pulse of maliciousness with how they brightened and dimmed.

Frisk instantly regretted her actions.

She hadn’t seen that look since the underground when they’d first met, his voice harsher and words acidic.

Truth be told, Frisk hadn’t wanted to steal his cigarettes, but she’d been just so curious to try them, and she’d known both Toriel and Asgore wouldn’t have allowed her to buy them when she was just seventeen.

‘It’d only be one cigarette’, she’d promised herself back then, and then one had turned into two, and then three. Before she knew it she’d been stealing Sans’ packs on the regular and had developed a habit by the time her birthday rolled around a week later.

Not a habit really… she didn’t smoke every day, maybe twice a week, but she did start hoarding when she did take them.

And this time she had to admit that maybe she’d been a bit too greedy, otherwise Sans wouldn’t have come down so unexpectedly to go get more and seen her. She knew this was typically when he’d be out on the balcony, he always went for a smoke before dinner, and she’d ruined the nightly ritual.

Five minutes was all she usually took, and apparently all she needed to get caught.

It was just bad timing that Papyrus was currently in the middle of having the bathroom cleaned and she’d been forced to try and sneak it in the living room while the younger brother stopped to make the evening meal.

Frisk would've gone outside to smoke, but she knew that she’d have gotten busted for trying to go out in the snow based on suspicion alone. The brothers knew she hated the cold. It was why she always wore sweaters and the like.

She swallowed thickly the longer Sans pinned her in place with his glare. Frisk did NOT want Sans to get angry. He still scared her to this day with his temper even if it wasn’t nearly as bad as all those years ago.

“U-um…” She pulled the cigarette away, trying to speak through a lungful, “Sans I—”

Frisk didn’t get a chance to speak and explain herself.

Sans was across the room in one moment, and right in front of her the next, his hand cupping her chin. 

Right before he leaned in and captured her mouth with his.

Frisk jolted, the ridges of his grin coming down to lock with her lips in the facsimile of a kiss as he held her in place and pried her pliant lips easily apart with his tongue in a single brush. A whimper almost slipped out but died where it rose within her filled chest.

He stole her breath, literally.

Sans gently drew the air from her lungs, as if a caress, with a single soft and deep inhale.

Frisk was frozen, her heart hammering as her cheeks flushed and her eyes opened to reveal their golden hues in stunned silence.

Sans’s SOUL gave a spine-tingling thrum at the sight. 

Frisk rarely opened her eyes, if ever. How she managed to navigate with them closed he never knew, and had often thrown it up to the fact that she carried more magic within her than the average human nowadays, allowing her to see without seeing.

Those honey colored irises did more to him than the kiss did.

He pulled back, his hand still cupping her chin as he brushed a gloved thumb along the side of her jaw and slowly blew out a breath, exhaling the smoke that’d been shared between them with another fiery pulse of his eyelights.

Sans' tone was rough, an octave lower from the tainted air with thickened accent, “shouldn’ smoke sweetheart, it’s bad fer ya.”

She was still frozen, locked in place like a statue, as he casually released her chin to reach down into her sweater’s right pocket and pulled out one of the two missing cigarette packs. With a glance he saw there was only one missing from it.

He was willing to bet she’d already smoked the other one.

With a hum he straightened and tapped the pack against his palm, causing one of the sticks to shoot up right before he plucked it free with his teeth as he pulled out his lighter and lit it. Sans took a deep drag and closed his sockets, savoring it.

It was relieving, but not as satisfying as it’d been when he’d stolen Frisk’s.

He glanced down at her as he blew out another billowing cloud through his sharp teeth. 

“stay away from my smokes, capiche?”

Frisk could only nod, her hands trembling as she looked down and timidly bit her lip.

cute.

“hey boss! c’mere, somethin’ i wanna show ya!”

Frisk jolted, and gasped in shock and betrayal as Sans took another drag and filled the air with more gray tinged vapor, before abruptly shortcutting to his balcony and leaving her to her fate.

“WHAT IS IT SANS—”

Sans leaned against the wall of the house and chuckled as soon as he heard the realization and offence in Papyrus' voice.

“FRISK! HAVE YOU BEEN SMOKING?! IN MY LIVING ROOM!?”

Sans glanced up at the starry sky as he listened to the chaos inside, his thoughts all circling back to how Frisk’s lips had felt against his. He secretly hoped she did steal another pack from him.

He welcomed her to try.

[ant1quarian]

Happy Birthday, Dust!

A small Dust x Reader birthday drabble for him. (Is based in the time of my fic, The Power Of Music)

Contains:

Fluff

It was a cold autumn day, mist blanketing the floor, complimenting the frost that had taken over the ground. The subtle wind twisted through the almost-bare trees around you, playfully tossing up a couple leaves as it went.

You hummed a tune, breathing in the crisp morning air as you walked through the forest. The ground was beautiful, coloured in an array of oranges and yellows from the leaves falling off of the trees. 

A gloved hand slipped into your own, prompting you to glance over to your long-time mate. He was steadily refusing to look at you, but that didn’t stop you from seeing the purple glow lighting up his zygomatic arches from the darkness his hood cast.

You felt your SOUL squeeze with affection as you briefly lent your head on his shoulder.

“Hey, Dust?” You said quietly, as if to try not to break the comfortable atmosphere.

You got a curious hum in response as he tilted his skull to look at you. You swore you could just see two white eyelights staring back at you beneath the void of shadows before it faded out again.

“It’s your birthday, right?”

Dust missed a step before quickly recovering, hand squeezing around your own as he cleared his non-existent throat.

“how’d you figure that one out, huh?” His tone betrayed his amusement, if he was still a little surprised.

“The Great Papyrus is, apparently, knowledgeable about all things,” You reply simply with a smile on your face. You can still recall the story Dust had told you about his underground, and then the weird multiverse clash that brought him here, where Sans and Papyrus were still doing well and– most importantly– on the surface.

Dust chuckled quietly before shrugging, “yeah. ‘s my birthday. what about it?”

“Do you want to do anything?” The forest opened up into a familiar clearing and the both of you headed over to the two rocks that you usually sat on. The trickling river not far in front of it created an even nicer ambience.

“... dunno. it’s, uh, not really somethin’ i celebrate a lot.” He reached a hand up to scratch at his neck vertebrae as his thumb began to gently trace over yours.

“We can just chill out and do nothing if you want,” You suggested, leaning against his side as you sat.

He hummed in the affirmative, pulling you closer with an arm around your waist, “... sounds a lot better than doin’ something.”

“When we get back to the house, can I still make you a cake?”

“‘course. if you really wanna, i won’t stop ya.”

He earned a peck to the cheek for that, and you earned a very vibrant purple glow that nearly illuminated his entire skull.

For a violent, grumpy murder skeleton, he sure was adorable.

[daisilynn]

Sorry if this has been asked before, I'm a newer follower but-

I've noticed you do both digital art and traditional art. All your work is amazing, but I have to know how you get your traditional drawings so, like, crisp looking?? What materials do you use?

HI THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I’m not the best at answering questions, so I hope this helps!

For coloring, I use ohuhu alchohol markers, specifically the 48 pack. I just got mine off of Amazon lol

For the line art I use Tombow Fudenosuke calligraphy pens! You can order a 6 pack on Amazon for $14 or just a 2 pack for $5. I just have the 2 pack from Michaels (or I saw they sell it at Walmart as well!) they’re also waterproof, so if you let them dry long enough on paper, there won’t be a problem with smudging! :] they’re also super flexible and reaaally good for line width

For paper, I use the Strathmore marker paper! It’s super smooth and you don’t have to worry about ink bleeding through ^-^

You can also use mixed medium paper as well, like those super thick sketch books. that’s what I used for my Sans and Papyrus traditional drawing, but watch out for bleeding :o

I hope this answered some of your questions! Feel free and ask anymore if you’d like! :o

[quichein-me-softly]

gneiss time w/ sans

The evening sky was painted in soft hues of lavender and pink as the sun began its slow descent behind the mountain, casting a golden glow over the surrounding trees. The crisp air carried the scent of pine, mixing with the subtle sweetness of fallen autumn leaves. It was that perfect balance between summer’s warmth and autumn’s chill, where a light breeze felt like an invitation to explore, and every path seemed to promise an adventure.

You, venturing to the quiet edge of the forest near Mt. Ebott, were lost in thought, your hands tucked into your pockets as you walked along a narrow, overgrown path. You had come here to clear your mind, finding solace in the gentle rustle of leaves underfoot. But as you rounded a corner, your foot caught on something solid yet hidden beneath the colorful foliage. Before you could catch yourself, you tripped, arms flailing slightly, but you didn’t fall.

Instead, something—or rather, someone—was standing just behind you, steadying you with an unassuming hand on your shoulder. You hadn’t even noticed the figure until you were already in their grip.

"heh. almost bit the dust there, huh?"

You turned your head, and there he was—Sans. The ever-relaxed skeleton with his hoodie slightly unzipped, his trademark grin in place. He wasn’t looking at you directly, but rather down at the leaf-covered path, as if he had known you were going to trip and was just waiting for the moment.

“I—I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be out here,” You stammered, a little embarrassed. Your heart was pounding from the near fall. You couldn’t help but smile back. Sans always had that way about him—showing up when you least expected it, but somehow always at the right time.

“yeah, i wasn’t expecting to be here either,” Sans said with a lazy shrug, his hand sliding back into his hoodie pocket. “but someone’s gotta keep ya grounded, huh?”

You chuckled softly, the awkwardness of your stumble melting into something more comfortable, almost familiar. "Maybe it's fate," you teased, your smile widening as you took a step back, brushing off your pants.

“fate, huh? i dunno. sounds more like gravity to me," Sans quipped, his grin somehow growing wider. His eyes sparkled with mischief.

You two began walking together without much need for words, the path leading you deeper into the forest, where the sounds of city were distant, but the faint warmth of daylight lingered in the cool evening air. As you walked, you couldn't help but sneak glances at Sans, your thoughts alternating between curiosity and amusement.

There was something calming about his presence, a gentle ease that felt like the most natural thing in the world. And yet, beneath that calm exterior, there was always something more—something you couldn’t quite place.

After a few minutes of silence, Sans broke it with another chuckle. "so, what brings you out here? lookin' for some adventure?” Another cheeky grin starts to creep over his face.

“‘cause looks like you were off to a rocky start."

You laughed earnestly before responding. "I just… needed a break from everything back in town. You know how it is."

"oh, yeah. papyrus keeps me on my toes. or... lack of toes. whatever you wanna call these bones," he said with a wink, nudging you playfully.

The two continued walking, the atmosphere growing lighter with each passing moment. There was something undeniably special about this encounter—something that lingered in the way your footsteps fell into sync, and the way the conversation flowed so effortlessly between the two of you. It was a connection neither you nor Sans had expected, but neither of you seemed in a rush to explain.

As you rounded another bend, a soft glow appeared ahead, the welcoming lights of Grillby’s pub visible through the trees. The cozy warmth of the place beckoned you, promising good food, a crackling fireplace, and perhaps even more conversations that neither of you would forget anytime soon.

"well, pal, how about we make this little trip official and grab a bite?" Sans asked, nodding towards Grillby's with a playful look. "i hear the fries are pretty good, but you might wanna avoid the ketchup. heard it’s a hit ore miss."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Sounds pretty gneiss."

“that one was a real gem.”

With some hushed giggles, you both stepped into the warmth of the tavern, your shared smiles and friendly banter weaving the first threads of what felt like the beginning of something deeper. Neither of you said it out loud, but in that quiet moment, as the door swung shut behind you, the world outside seemed a little less lonely.

[cloudyskydreams]

UT,UF,US Favorite Seasons

Undertale!

Sans: Spring •He enjoys the smell of rain and the atmosphere it brings it reminds him of waterfall.

•Lazy rainy days spent cuddled up in his bed with the sound of the rain against the rooftop and a soft blanket. Sounds perfect to him. It's hard to get him out of bed on these days and even if you do he's still pretty sleepy all day even more so than usual.

•He does enjoy the scenery and likes to stop and look at the flowers on the rare occasion he goes on walks, and if he does go on a walk it's going to be on a cloudy spring day with somewhat cool temperature.

•Lets not forget about his favorite holiday April Fools day! He goes hard on this day and his brother and the others try to steer clear of him but he always ends up getting them anyways. His pranks are normally practical but he sometimes whips out elaborate pranks. Most of the time people stumble upon whoopie cushions, bubble wrap under carpets, rigged air horns, and misplaced items for days after the holiday.

Papyrus: Summer •Paps loves being out and about under the summer sun when the temperature is nice and he can show off in his cropped shirts. He owns a bunch of them, his closet is sorted by season and his summer one is mostly cropped shirts with the occasional tank top and short sleeved shirt.

•Owns atleast 15 pairs of sunglasses that he tapes to his face when going. He has a collection of different tapes for this and chooses a different one for each mood. Made the mistake of using duct tape one time and had gunk stuck to his skull for days so he uses washi tape now.

•Definitely owns a straw sun hat and on the topic of hats I feel like he would love bucket hats too.

•He doesn't have the biggest sweet tooth but he enjoys the sweet treats that come with summer too like nice cream and watermelon.

•Will get into the shallow end of the pool (skeletons sink) and splash around with Undyne until Undyne gets to excited and tosses him into the deep end making him stuck at the bottom for the next ten minutes till she stops laughing and drags him out.

Underfell!

Red: Fall •Dont tell anyone but he's a pumpkin spice enjoyer

•He loves the changing of the leaves and the crunch of the fallen ones under his boots. Plus fall is the best time to show off his leather jackets and sweaters.

•Pumpkin carving is one of his favorite activities and he gets pretty intricate with his designs. He always places them outside their door and gets blushy and sweaty over compliments he's really proud of his work just not used to recognition.

•Loves the chill in the air and let's not forget Halloween and spooky movies. He absolutely loves Halloween and he definitely goes to haunted houses. He tried to drag his brother along one time and Edge almost punched someone in the face so now he goes alone or with friends.

Edge: Fall •He's a Spider Cider drinker. He loves the warmer hot drinks and a nice cup of Spider Cider and fall itself for some reason he can't place makes him feel nostalgic and while his childhood wasn't the best he does like thinking about the good memories with his brother.

•Enjoys going for walks in the park and the crisp fall air especially at night. He has a strict sleep schedule but he extends it by a small amount to enjoy the fall night weather.

•Not big on horror movies it's not that they're scary they're just pretty boring to him. He does enjoy occasionally watching them with his brother but would never watch one by himself. He just likes spending time with his brother when he gets the chance, something he'd never admit.

•He loves Halloween decorations, skeleton ones do make him uncomfortable sometimes especially if they're naked but he finds them humerus (hehe) after a short adjustment time his first year. Red got a skeleton and changed it to Edges likeness on year. Edge rolled his eyes at it but he keeps the skeleton in his closet and thinks it's pretty funny to dress up sometimes.

Underswap!

Stretch: Spring •Stretch also enjoys April Fools day as this man is a practical pranker all the way. Often teams up with Sans to tag team the others but all's fair in love and war and the truce is often broken by Stretch himself. He just can't help it.

•Bees start becoming active in the spring and Stretch is a big fan of the little pollinators. Not only do they make honey they're adorable to him and help the ecosystem to continue functioning by spreading pollen.

•I know it's been clarified his cigarettes are not weed but as a stoner I'm making one of my favorite boys a stoner in my au. He celebrates 4/20 with a joint or two and some major munchies while watching the midnight gospel.

•Stretch enjoys the rain as well but more thunderstorm rain while sans enjoys light drizzles. He likes the lightning and can often be seen chilling outside while a thunderstorm is happening storm watching. His first thunderstorm was a mess as him and Blue had never experienced thunder before and were rightfully scared but when he saw the lightning for the first time he was mesmerized. He got over his fear by counting the seconds in between the lighting and thunder and continued to do so for the next few storms but isn't really afraid anymore.

Blue:Winter •Blue loves the snow, it reminds him of Snowdin and there's so much fun stuff you can do in it. He always builds a snow version of himself to stand proud outside their house when winter comes.

•He's a hot cocoa drinker and does enjoy having a little peppermint stick in it as well as some whip cream. He owns a few different types of hot cocoa but his favorite is the one made of real chocolate and milk. He enjoys all the cookies and sweets that come with the season as well. He likes to bake cookies to share with his neighbors.

•Always starts his Gyftmas gift list months ahead of time and does his Gyftmas shopping early as well. He likes to be prepared even though he often buys surprise little gifts he uses as stocking stuffers. Speaking of stockings he and Stretch decorated theirs themselves and Blues definitely has a lot of glitter on it.

•His favorite holiday is Gyftmas and he always over decorates the house. He just gets into the spirit really easily and when he sees something in a store he likes he has to get it to decorate the house with, he's a little bit of an impulsive shopper. He has a little miniature Gyftmas village he always adds a little to each year, it's a tradition he started his first Gyftmas on the surface after Stretch made a joke about using one of the miniature trees as their actual Gyftmas tree

[normal-about-boys]

What are your Papyrus’s favorite drink? (Aside from things like condiments or the like)

ooh! Good question!

Cinnamon: He lies and says it's water, cause he wants to put on this "I'm so healthy" front, when in reality it's apple juice. He doesn't seem to realize that people don't really care.

Carnation: Just like Cinnamon, he lies. He claims he only drinks the "finest of wines". Massive lie, he doesn't drink at all. He tried alcohol once and hated the way it made him feel so he swore of drinking ever again. His real favorite is hot cocoa. He loves the warm feeling it gives in his chest.

Honey: He doesn't drink much of anything often [he so dehydrated omg] but if he could choose a favorite? Fruit smoothies. He likes the fresh ones instead of store-bought, makes em really sweet too. And of course he adds lots of honey.

Jam: He'd die without iced coffee. He drinks it with every meal and just casually throughout the day. Jam's routine is basically: wake up, iced coffee, sleep. He's too lazy to make it himself so he just buys a bunch of the bottled kind.

Persimmon: Unlike Cinnamon, his favorite actually is water. The cool crisp feeling is comforting to Persi. He only drinks cold water though, hates it when it's warm.

[lifesanssin]

22 touching, she/her, Amber

Prompt: "22 touching, she/her, Amber"

Touch #22: falling asleep on the other’s shoulder

Character: Amber (Underswap Papyrus)

× ��� × • × • × • × • × • × • × • × • × • × • × • × • ×

...This was fine.

Everything was totally fine. Chill, even! ... Okay, maybe not quite chill, but close enough... Cool? Yeah, this was cool. Totally cool...

The snickering coming from the other side of the couch, however, was definitively less so; Amber felt his already magic-flushed face brighten as he shot his brother what he hoped was a withering glare.

(It wasn't. If anything, he looked rather like a moody kitten. A bright orange, glowing kitten, at that. Aqua couldn't help snorting at the mental image that gave him, and he narrowly avoided an empty bag of crisps being flung his way with his younger, flustered brother's magic.)

"Honestly, What Are You Even Freaking Out About?"

"'m not freakin' out, 'm jus'-"

"But You Are, Though! Stars, It Isn't Like She's Indecent, Or Naked-"

"oh? my god?? shut th' fuck up??" Amber hissed the words as embarrassment continued to flood his mind (and his poor skull), and he went ahead and chucked an empty pop can at his annoying, now softly cackling older brother for good measure. "y're gonna wake 'er up-"

His voice caught in his throat at the feel of you stirring from where you rested against his shoulder and he froze, the vertebrae of his lumbar spine clicking audibly as he straightened. He held his unnecessary breaths and waited, counting down the seconds in his head for when you awoke, when you jolted back in- in what? Disgust? Stars, that would be the worst...

...No, no, the worst was having to sit here and endure Aqua's endless teasing, but... well, he didn't want to wake you up! Not yet, anyway.

"Amber... You Know That You Really Ought To Mention It To Her."

Curse his big brother for being so smart... that, or maybe he really was just that obvious. The thought roiled in his nonexistent gut and he wheezed out a quiet breath, hoping against hopes that you hadn't caught on, that you weren't just... just sticking around and hanging out with him out of pity. As his thoughts continued anxiously down that uncomfortable path, he didn't notice his brother scooching closer until a hand reached over to land on the shoulder you weren't currently using as a pillow.

When he met Aqua's eye lights again, he was surprised to see that their teasing edge was gone, replaced with the brotherly concern he knew, deep down, that Aqua felt. "Look... She's Still Here, Isn't She? She Likes You, You Numbskull-"

"eugh, bro, don't pun at me now-" His whine was cut off as his brother continued, pushing on in a faintly louder, more stern tone.

"-And You're Being An Absolute Fool If You Think That She's Just Sticking Around To Humor You." It was only faintly annoying, from the knowingness in his smile, how Amber knew that his brother knew he'd hit the mark with that call-out, gentle as it was. The hand on his shoulder gave a small, comforting squeeze, and then Aqua stood from the couch and left toward the kitchen.

Leaving Amber alone, with his thoughts... with his feelings... with you, laying against his side with your head on his shoulder as you'd been for a good twenty minutes so far. The movie was good, had him drawn in! He loved mysteries. They were puzzles, but less physical, and this one was about a hacker and a heist and... and, well, he really couldn't remember the last twenty minutes or so, because as soon as he'd felt your weight (warm and comfortable) on his shoulder, it was like his mind had blown a fuse. Every single ounce of dust and every iota of his magic was attuned to you, laying there like he was the most comfortable pillow in the entire world.

... And he knew that wasn't true, because he was a skeleton, for the Angel's sake! All bone! Sure, his hoodie was pretty soft... but, still!

He couldn't help being embarrassed, especially when Aqua started in on the teasing, because... yeah, his older brother was aware of the stupid little crush he had on you. Everyone was, apparently, which he didn't understand, because he hadn't even realized it until very recently! How was everyone else able to see it? He couldn't help but worry, once again, that maybe you noticed... and anxious thoughts of you pitying him began to follow. He tended to do that, to get anxious, nervous, to worry about things like that. You were one of the few who didn't seem to mind it when he did, stayed patient with him, despite how difficult he made it for you to get to know him at first. His older brother was so charismatic, and charming, and sociable, and he... well, he just wasn't. He was shy, and got anxious, and didn't always know what to say, and... and stars, he wished he understood why you were still even willing to hang out with him.

Despite his insistence to keep himself from looking at you the entire time you've been asleep, Amber's skull tipped just enough to peek at you from the corner of his socket, face flushing more warmly. You were... soft, even more so in your sleep, with your expression relaxed and lips barely parted so prettily. Your chest rose and fell slowly with your deep, even breaths, and he found himself synching up his very unnecessary breaths to match.

He had to wonder... did you worry about what he thought, too? When you were around him, did you ever wonder what he thought of you- what he felt? Did you take notice of his every micro-expression, or have things that he did or said that you thought fondly of?

...Did you love? care about him as much as he did you?

His soul gave a strong pulse and he tore his gaze away from your sleeping expression, breath stuttering out of him in a sigh. Whether you did or not, he was so happy- so lucky to have you in his life, and he... he'd never, in a million years, want to ruin that.

But here, alone, he couldn't help the creeping urge to wrap an arm around you, pull you closer, surely you'd be more comfortable if you were laying down, he could do that...

It was a few agonizing moments later that he moved, his arm sliding up behind your back to oh-so-carefully wrap around your shoulders. His chest was still, lacking his normal yet unneeded breaths; then all the air rushed from the lungs he didn't have once you had settled yourself further against him, cheek pressed to his shoulder. It smooshed it a little upward towards your eye, and Amber smiled in spite of his nerves at just how cute you looked.

Maybe... maybe he didn't know what the future held. Maybe he was unsure about the depth of his own feelings yet. That didn't matter right there and then, though.

There, in the safety of home and his best friend soulmate settled comfortably against his side, Amber allowed himself to relax, slowly easing back into the couch cushions with a soft sigh. The movie played on, unwatched, as he began to doze off, the side of his skull resting against the top of your head.

And if Aqua, upon finding the two of you asleep together, snapped a few quick, adorable photos, then... well. That's just a doting older brother's prerogative.

[tookishcombeferre]

It feels like it has been a million years since I decided to actually post my fan art. I doodled this in a sketch book and took a picture of it with my phone.

If you’ve read the latest installment of Perhaps Love, you get the significance of the Little Dipper. If you have not … well, I won’t give away spoilers! ;)

Surprisingly, the image quality isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Though, some of the shading isn’t as crisp or nice as it could be with a real scanner.

Alas … I don’t really have a scanner anymore.

ART REFERENCES:

I used some random pictures of Stitch as references for Papyrus’ eyes.

The reference for the position of MTT and Papyrus can be found here. (Basically, I googled “two people sitting in each other’s lap stock photo” and this was the 3rd thing I saw and liked it.)

The Rocky Horror T-shirt MTT is wearing is a blend of 3 or 4 different shirts I’ve either seen in person or looked up on Etsty but the lips belong to the ever beautiful Patricia Quinn.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Scholars of antiquity believe they are on the brink of a new era of understanding after researchers armed with artificial intelligence read the hidden text of a charred scroll that was buried when Mount Vesuvius erupted nearly 2,000 years ago.

Hundreds of papyrus scrolls held in the library of a luxury Roman villa in Herculaneum were burned to a crisp when the town was devastated by the intense blast of heat, ash and pumice that destroyed nearby Pompeii in AD79.

Excavations in the 18th century recovered more than 1,000 whole or partial scrolls from the mansion, thought to be owned by Julius Caesar’s father-in-law.

However, the black ink was unreadable on the carbonised papyri and the scrolls crumbled to pieces when researchers tried to open them.

The breakthrough in reading the ancient material came from the $1m Vesuvius Challenge, a contest launched in 2023 by Brent Seales, a computer scientist at the University of Kentucky, and Silicon Valley backers.

The competition offered prizes for extracting text from high-resolution CT scans of a scroll taken at Diamond, the UK’s national synchrotron facility in Oxfordshire.

On Monday, Nat Friedman, a US tech executive and founding sponsor of the challenge, announced that a team of three computer-savvy students, Youssef Nader in Germany, Luke Farritor in the US, and Julian Schilliger in Switzerland, had won the $700,000 (£554,000) grand prize after reading more than 2,000 Greek letters from the scroll.

Papyrologists who have studied the text recovered from the blackened scroll were stunned at the feat.

“This is a complete gamechanger,” said Robert Fowler, emeritus professor of Greek at Bristol University and chair of the Herculaneum Society.

“There are hundreds of these scrolls waiting to be read.”

Dr Federica Nicolardi, a papyrologist at the University of Naples Federico II, added:

“This is the start of a revolution in Herculaneum papyrology and in Greek philosophy in general. It is the only library to come to us from ancient Roman times.”

“We are moving into a new era,” said Seales, who led efforts to read the scrolls by virtually unwrapping the CT images and training AI algorithms to detect the presence of ink.

He now wants to build a portable CT scanner to image scrolls without moving them from their collections.

In October, Farritor won the challenge’s $40,000 “first letters” prize when he identified the ancient Greek word for “purple” in the scroll.

He teamed up with Nader in November, with Schilliger, who developed an algorithm to automatically unwrap CT images, joining them days before the contest deadline on 31 December.

Together, they read more than 2,000 letters of the scroll, giving scholars their first real insight into its contents.

“It’s been an incredibly rewarding journey,” said Youssef.

“The adrenaline rush is what kept us going. It was insane. It meant working 20-something hours a day. I didn’t know when one day ended and the next day started.”

“It probably is Philodemus,” Fowler said of the author.

“The style is very gnarly, typical of him, and the subject is up his alley.”

The scroll discusses sources of pleasure, touching on music and food – capers in particular – and whether the pleasure experienced from a combination of elements owes to the major or minor constituents, the abundant or the scare.

“In the case of food, we do not right away believe things that are scarce to be absolutely more pleasant than those which are abundant,” the author writes.

“I think he’s asking the question: what is the source of pleasure in a mix of things? Is it the dominant element, is it the scarce element, or is it the mix itself?” said Fowler.

The author ends with a parting shot against his philosophical adversaries for having “nothing to say about pleasure, either in general or particular."

Seales and his research team spent years developing algorithms to digitally unwrap the scrolls and detect the presence of ink from the changes it produced in the papyrus fibres.

He released the algorithms for contestants to build on in the challenge.

Friedman’s involvement proved valuable not only for attracting financial donors.

When Seales was meant to fly to the UK to have a scroll scanned, a storm blew in cancelling all commercial flights.

Worried they might lose their slot at the Diamond light source, Friedman hastily organised a private jet for the trip.

Beyond the hundreds of Herculaneum scrolls waiting to be read, many more may be buried at the villa, adding weight to arguments for fresh excavations.

"The same technology could be applied to papyrus wrapped around Egyptian mummies," Fowler said.

These could include everything from letters and property deeds to laundry lists and tax receipts, shining light on the lives of ordinary ancient Egyptians.

“There are crates of this stuff in the back rooms of museums,” Fowler said.

The challenge continues this year with the goal to read 85% of the scroll and lay the foundations for reading all of those already excavated.

Scientists need to fully automate the process of tracing the surface of the papyrus inside each scroll and improve ink detection on the most damaged parts.

“When we launched this less than a year ago, I honestly wasn’t sure it’d work,” said Friedman.

“You know, people say money can’t buy happiness, but they have no imagination. This has been pure joy. It’s magical what happened, it couldn’t have been scripted better."

Source: The Guardian

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